


Hurry Home

by ottertrashpalace



Series: I guess we're calling it Crewt [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Not sorry at all, PTSD, Panic Attack, Past Child Abuse, also i've jumped on the ace!Newt train, also it's time for graves, baths, dont worry though i still cant help myself there's fluff, mention of abusive relationships, yes this is angstier than the other one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:51:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottertrashpalace/pseuds/ottertrashpalace
Summary: Newt has taken Credence under his wing, and he'll do everything he can, but there are certain things that Credence must do himself. Not that Newt won't be with him at the end of the day.[a series of vignettes about Crewt that are vaguely interrelated. Plot is a strong word]





	1. Horklumps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I should start doing this: TWs in the end note

Today was the day that Credence was going to go outside. He was nervous.

Newt kept telling him that he was ready, and was going to be perfectly fine. After all, he’d been cooped up inside for around three weeks now. Credence wasn’t so sure. It had been very nice, staying with Tina and Queenie and Newt, but that was all in their flat, or Newt’s case, where he knew everything and all the creatures (or people) knew him. 

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Newt had said. “I know you can do this, and I won’t leave you for a moment.”

They were going to walk to an empty lot two blocks down, where Newt claimed to have seen a colony of Horklumps ( _Horklumps? Why on earth would you want to harvest Horklumps?— Because they possess excellent nutritive properties and I need to feed my diricrawl chicks, Queenie, for goodness’ sake_ ). 

Credence wasn’t entirely convinced that the whole deal was just a scheme to get him out of the house.

At any rate, the three of them—Tina was at work—ended up standing at the threshold of the apartment building around eleven on a Sunday morning, with Credence staring out, looking somewhat petrified.

“You can do it, dear,” Queenie said softly without any prompting. Credence sighed pointedly. “Oh, alright then,” she murmured, “I’ll stay out of your head for now. Sorry.” 

“That would probably be for the best,” Newt added, patting Credence’s shoulder awkwardly. “Well, let’s go, then. No sense in waiting here.” He stepped out decisively. Credence swallowed, and went along dutifully behind him.

The day was a cloudy grey, and Credence was almost grateful for it. He didn’t know how much burning sun he could handle, though to be frank, there wasn’t a lot of it in New York in January.

The breeze was cold, but there’s something about fresh air on one’s cheek that was soothing, even after all the years Credence had spent handing out those cursed leaflets on street corners. Having Newt and Queenie with him was nice, too, he supposed. They walked beside him in companionable silence.

The walk didn’t take any time at all, and they had only passed two people, a grandmotherly-looking woman and a young boy, who was playing about her skirts. Credence stiffened automatically, sure that the boy would be chastised for such behavior. The grandmother, though, just gave a small chuckle, took his hand, and kept on. Credence didn't know quite what to think of that.

They had made it to the lot. It was full of weeds and ugly shrubs, but Newt picked his way expertly to the back corner, rustled around for a bit, and then proclaimed “Aha!” and brandished a whitish lump towards his comrades. “An entire colony! Just as I thought.”

With that, the three of them began to pull up as many of the growths as they could. Credence almost relished the feeling of the dirt between his fingers and rubbing at the knees of his thin pants; he hadn’t been allowed to do anything like this since he was very young, when the front of the church used to be a garden. They only grew vegetables, of course, but Credence could have sworn he used to see the occasional daisy sprouting up along the orderly rows of potatoes. Perhaps Chastity had used to be more adventurous in those early years, too.

When Newt was satisfied with their Horklump collection, the unlikely trio started back towards the apartment. 

In retrospect, Credence ought to have realized that everything had been going far to well. After all, he knew, he had never deserved such kindness to begin with.

They had rounded the last corner, and out of nowhere, there was suddenly a stranger’s chest in front of Credence. It was a woman, thin and poised, whose face Credence never really saw before his vision narrowed and his limbs froze, Mary Lou’s voice ringing through his head:

_Evil, evil boy! God has cursed me with you, Credence. You are an abomination. Your very existence defiles nature. Perhaps some day I will be lucky and you will fall into Hell where you belong._

no no no nononononononono

_Belt_ , he thinks instinctively. _Take off your belt._

The whole world is closing in around him, and there isn’t enough air for him to breathe. He takes huge, gulping gasps, but to no avail. It’s as though he’s being held underwater.

He can’t remember why he ever believed that it would never come back to this. It always did in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {TW for self-hatred, mentions of child abuse, and ptsd-incited panic attacks}  
> I know that wasn't particularly nice, but it gets better I promise


	2. Please don't go

Newt thought he might cry. He should have seen, how could he have let that happen? Credence was shrinking in on himself, curling into the smallest ball of gangly limbs possible. He could vaguely hear Queenie talking to the muggle, explaining something bland and sending her on her way. Newt wanted desperately to comfort Credence, but he also knew that touching the boy at this point would likely exacerbate his attack.

He couched down in front of the shuddering mass of Credence, noting with concern that some blackish tendrils were starting to creep up at his neck.

“Credence, love, can you hear me?” He began gently. He knew what usually helped the boy calm down after nightmares, but this was a different situation entirely. Nonetheless, it was somewhere to start.

“Credence, you’re safe, you’re alright, I just need you to breathe. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Credence was still locked in place, and the Obscurus was slowly swallowing his throat. He was fighting it, that much was clear, but Newt didn’t know how long he would be able to hold back.

“Newt!” Queenie whispered, shaking his shoulder a little. “We need to go home.”

Newt glanced over his shoulder at her. Her face was screwed up in pain, and realized suddenly how much of a burden her natural legilimency could be. He filed this away for later, though, and turned back to Credence.

“He can’t walk like, this, what do you propose…?” He said, keeping his tone soft and calm, just loud enough to be heard over Credence's whimpering.

“We can apparate!” She said, still hushed.

Newt glanced over his shoulder nervously.

“There’s no one, we need to go.” She insisted.

Newt conceded, nodding. He turned to Credence.

“Credence, love, we’re going to go home now, we’re going to go back to Tina and Queenie’s flat. I just need you to take my hand, love. Just take my hand, that’s all. You’re going to be alright.”

Nothing.

“I’m going to touch your hand now, Credence. We’re going to go back home.” 

Very slowly, painfully slowly, Newt reached towards Credence’s white, clutching knuckles. They flinched violently when he brushed them, and Newt cringed regretfully as he gripped tighter, holding on just enough to keep Credence from splinching while they travelled.

Two seconds of crushing darkness later, they were in the living room of the flat. Credence seemed slightly worse for wear, but at least they were safer now. He could hear Queenie casting some wards in the background. 

Finally, he was able to focus on Credence. He murmured softly to the boy, helping him breathe. Newt found himself settling into the mindset that he tended to find when he cared for one of his creatures, focusing purely on each and every move he made, and how it would affect Credence. He kept his hand gently on Credence’s, letting the warmth anchor him, and kept counting breaths. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four.

“That’s it, love, you’re doing great. You're safe now.” 

It might have been half an hour later that Credence started to uncurl with a whimper, his limbs trembling with exertion.

“Credence, do you know where you are?” Newt asked, keeping to their routine.

“Home,” Credence croaked, and Newt’s heart twisted. _Home._

“Are you hungry?” 

Credence nodded. Newt knew that controlling the Obscurus was no easy task, so he went to the kitchen to see if there was anything quick to replenish his energy. He grabbed a glass for water and a muffin from the previous day, courtesy of Jacob’s visit. The baker had really grown in Newt's estimation, though not quite so much as his excellent pastries.

Credence accepted the muffin and ate it with gusto, to Newt’s satisfaction. They sat quietly for a little while, and Newt picked up a book from the coffee table, letting Credence have time to himself to think.

Around an hour later, there were footsteps on the staircase. Newt startled slightly, but relaxed when he recognized the familiar sound of Tina’s boots against the wooden floor. She was home early.

“Newt? Credence?” She said, her voice carefully level. “I heard… about this afternoon. Left early to make sure everything’s alright. Where’s Queenie?”

“Er, she went out, I believe.” Newt replied, giving her a meaningful look. Tina nodded slightly. Queenie had a hard time staying in the house when Credence was so unhappy, and much as she wanted to help, it often proved too much.

“I’ll start dinner, then.” Tina said. Newt couldn’t be more grateful. Tina was a decidedly mediocre cook, and disliked it to boot, but at times like these Newt was amazed by her incredibly kind heart.  They dined quietly on mediocre liverwurst sandwiches, but no one had a thought to complain. Queenie was still out, but she sent a pigeon around five promising to be back as soon after dinner.

While Tina retired to the couch to read under the lamp, Newt and Credence descended into the case to tend to the creatures and sort through the day’s spoils. It had become something of a habit for them, ever since the first week Credence had stayed with Newt and the girls. The mooncalves in particular had taken a real shining to him, and it seemed therapeutic anyway.Credence seemed to relax substantially, which relieved Newt. He sorted Horklumps rhythmically, and was pleased when the Diricrawl chicks took every last shred of them. Eventually, though, the creatures settled down for the night,  and Newt heard Credence yawn.

“Time to go up?” said Newt. Credence hummed, stumbling slightly as he made his way over. He looked stiff, and more hunched than usual. Suddenly, inspiration struck Newt.

“Credence, how would you like to have a bath?” He asked.

Credence looked slightly confused. “I—I’m a little cold.” he murmured. 

It was Newt’s turn to be confused. “Well, a bath would help, wouldn’t it?”

Credence just shook his head jerkily. “Just—the water’s so cold…”

It took a moment for Newt to realize exactly what he meant by that. _That awful Muggle woman_ , Newt thought. _Damn her. She made those poor children bathe in cold water, in the winter, in this freezing weather?_

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to show you something, then.” Newt decided.

“What is it?” Credence asked hesitantly. 

“I'd rather like to surprise you. Trust me on this, I think you’ll like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack aftermath, mentions of child abuse  
> This was not intended to be this long. I also intended to put the bath bit in here, but the boys just demanded more time to bond so I'm taking the chapter break here. There will be a nice bath, I promise, it just felt too long to put it in here


	3. Cleaning up a little

Credence had no idea where Newt was taking him. He was incredibly weary, after all the things that afternoon that he was trying not to remember too hard. There was still a tight, hard part of him that was waiting for Newt to ask him for his belt and give him what he deserved after ruining the outing earlier. Newt never responded the way that part of him would expect, though, so Credence was never sure.

At any rate, they were in the bathroom now. Credence pressed himself against the door, and watched as Newt did something in the tub with his wand. It filled quickly with steaming, frothy water. Something smelled sweet, like flowers. 

“Is that…” He began, not quite sure how to finish his question.

“Well, hop in then, I’ll be outside.” Newt said, and he turned swiftly around to leave.

“W-wait.” Credence said desperately. Queenie would always tell him that he needed to listen to himself more, hard as it was for him to stop thinking about what other people wanted. He wasn’t always sure what he wanted, but at that moment he very much knew that he didn’t want to be alone.

Newt looked surprised, and Credence wondered briefly if he’d stepped out of line, but only a moment later, Newt turned back towards him. “Alright,” he said, and it was as simple as that.

He stood in the corner and twiddled his thumbs a bit, looking a bit awkward. 

“I’ll just…” He trailed off, and turned around, giving Credence his back.

Credence was confused. He wasn’t sure exactly why Newt would do this, unless he was offended, or he didn’t want to see Credence. For that, Credence supposed, he couldn’t blame him. He didn’t seem to be keen on moving, so Credence just started undressing, folding his clothes and leaving them on the counter in a neat stack. At the church, they had bathed precisely once a week, on Saturday nights before service. Since Modesty and Chastity were too delicate to haul out the water, Credence would bathe last before doing the chore himself.

This seemed different. The water was really steaming hot, thanks to Newt’s magic, and it almost seemed to have a pinkish hue about it. Credence hesitantly stepped in and— _oh_ , it felt wonderful.

He sank into the water slowly, as his limbs adjusted to the heat, and it almost felt like every ache in his body was being unknit. He unconsciously let out a deep, shuddering breath, and felt the darkness—his Obscurus, Newt called it—receding to the smallest he could ever remember it, only a small, cool pulse in his chest.

Newt turned back around once Credence was all the way in the water, and perched tenuously on the counter.

“Do you like it, then?” He asked, sounding eager despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at Credence at all.

“It’s amazing,” Credence told him. He imagined that this was what it felt like to be rich and happy. Ma would have screamed at him for the decadence of it all, but with the warmth surrounding him, her words seemed to have lost a fraction of their potency. 

Newt was looking at him now, and in a strange way. For a split second, he reminded Credence of Mr. Graves, but then it was gone, and he was almost sure he had imagined it.

“Would you mind… if I washed your hair?” Newt stuttered out. It struck Credence as an odd request, since washing another person’s hair couldn’t be very enjoyable, but Newt seemed to want to do it, so he nodded.

“Are you sure?” Newt added, wringing his hands. “I know with the—that first night, you—“

“It’s okay,” Credence said. He wasn’t sure why it appealed to him so much, but something about sitting in the warm water kept him from questioning his instinctual response.

“Alright, then. Just, tell me if you—you know. Please?”

Credence nodded again. It was odd to see Newt so flustered, and while it alarmed him slightly, it was also strangely comforting.

_He asked._ Just like he had at the station. He always asked.

Credence shook his head slightly and tried very hard not to think about that night either.

Newt was wearing just his shirt, untucked, and a pair of shoddy pants that were somewhat messy from the evening in the case. HIs hands, though, were clean; calloused but gentle. He grabbed a bottle off of the shelf by the tub, and shook some into his hand.

“Don’t tell Queenie, I’ve no idea how to conjure shampoo so I’m using hers.”

“That’s—are you sure she won’t mind?” Credence murmured.

“Not in the least.” Newt replied firmly. “Don’t worry about it.”

From that point forward, Credence let the exhaustion of the day— the weeks, really, even the years—pull him sleepwards and gave into the gentle push of Newt’s hands in his hair. It had grown a little longer since he’d… left… and he found he rather liked it that way. At any rate, Newt hadn’t said anything about cutting it, so he wondered if he might even be able to keep it that way. At any rate, the gentle strokes of Newt’s fingers were so sweet that he wondered if he might be able to stay like that for an eternity or so.

“Credence, you might want to get out, you’re going pruney,” said Newt after maybe a half an hour. Credence lifted a hand out of the water, and saw that there were wrinkles all across his fingertips. He nodded sleepily, and started to get up. Newt jumped a little, causing him to pause in the process of climbing out, but the man just swallowed and took a towel from the rack, holding it out to him.

The towel was ridiculously soft and fluffy, making Credence wonder why they didn’t just use it as a blanket. Nevertheless, he dried himself quickly and turned to find his pajamas sitting on the counter. He put them on. When he was done, he looked up at Newt, who was standing in the corner again, staring at his feet.

“Newt?” Credence began cautiously. He didn’t know if Newt was angry or confused, though personal experience screamed that it had to be the former. “Should we go to bed?”

Newt looked as though he’d been lost in thought and suddenly brought back to reality. “Yes, we should. My apologies, it seems I’m a little overtired.” He started towards the bedroom that they had been sharing, and Credence followed

This didn’t explain what he had seen at all. “I--I'm sorry, that just doesn't seem right. You aren’t leaning, you always lean when you’re tired. And you’re fiddling with your wand in your pocket, you only do that when you’re nervous or irritated.” Credence paused, and gulped. “Did I do something wrong, Newt?”

Newt’s eyes widened. “No, not at all. I swear. Y—you’re probably right, about that, but it’s not your fault. Please, let’s just go to bed.”

Credence felt bad immediately. He’d obviously made Newt uncomfortable, bringing up something he didn’t want to talk about.

“You’re right, let’s go to bed,” he said, eyes downcast “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, love, there’s nothing at all to be sorry for. Perhaps someday, I’ll tell you about it. I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it yet.”

Newt kissed Credence on the forehead, and slipped under the covers. Credence, still pondering this odd reaction, climbed in next to him. It made sense, he decided, and within minutes, he’d fallen asleep to the rhythmic sound of Newt’s breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, bath fuff and maybe a little character development thrown in for funsies! Might get into ace newt in the next chapter. or maybe graves. hmmm. pls leave feedback, i'm starving for inspiration.


	4. Two steps backwards

The real Graves was alive. They had found him roughly two weeks after Newt had found Credence, chained up in a basement in Queens with no wand and ridiculously strong wards keeping him in place. He was in no happy state, and had to stay in St. Bart’s for a week solid days before he was more or less functional.

All this Tina related to Newt over coffee, and Newt filed it away carefully. Tina looked up to Graves, and probably worshipped the ground he walked on, but Newt wasn't entirely sure. He knew that Grindelwald had used Graves’ relationship with Credence for his own gain. It occurred to him that it might be beneficial for the two to meet at some point, possibly, though he’d have to talk to Credence about it, which wouldn’t be an easy task.

“Did he know Credence before the Grindelwald debacle?” Newt asked.

Tina shook her head. “I couldn’t know for sure. He knew about the case—the Second Salemers, that is—but I don’t see why he would ever have taken a personal interest. It’s not his style.”

Newt nodded. He liked this Graves fellow less and less the more they talked about him, though he could admit that he was a bit biased after the effect his doppelgänger had on Credence. It wasn’t entirely fair of him, he knew, but the benefit of his doubt was running rather short. 

When he got home that day, he was glad to see that Credence had been having a mild day. Sometimes, things were worse than others, but in that moment the Obscurus seemed relatively quiet.

“Credence? I have some news—it has to do with Mr. Graves.” Newt said right off the bat. Credence knew that the man he’d known was Grindelwald, but the name still made him stiffen visibly. 

“What is it?” He asked mechanically.

“Why don’t we sit down…” Newt said, taking Credence’s hand and leading him to the couch. “They found the real one, the real Mr. Graves. Grindelwald was holding him prisoner, but they got him out and he’s recovering.”

Credence didn’t seem to have anything to say. He looked at his hands, fingers twitching slightly. 

“Did you know him? Before?” Newt probed further. 

“I... I'm not sure," Credence answered, slowly. "If I did, I never noticed he--changed."

"Let's see. He would have become Grindelwald around the time of the incident with your mother and Tina, so did he talk to you before that?"

Credence's eyes widened a fraction. "Yes-- once. I remember. He took a pamphlet and told me it was too cold to be standing outside alone."

Newt gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Graves was a powerful wizard, and the fact that he hadn't noticed anything about Credence truly annoyed him. Too high and mighty to help the unfortunate, apparently. Nevertheless, this was Credence's choice, and he wasn't about to take that away from him.

"Well, Tina said that he mentioned you... he wants to see you. We'd likely call on his house, if you agree."

Credence went still, hunched over like he used to. "I-- why would he want to see me?"

"Worried, I guess. Or he wants to make amends." Newt watched him carefully, aware that the emotions that this brought up were not all too positive. 

In the end, Credence nodded. 

"Are you sure?" Newt asked. "It's -- seeing him-- he'll look just the same. Just a different person inside."

Credence nodded again, looking more certain. "I can handle it."

And he said it with such quiet, unbroken strength that Newt lost all resolve to disagree. They would see Graves, then. He'd have to talk to Tina. 

In the meantime, though, he reached up and stroked Credence's hair. He leaned in to Newt's touch, and sighed almost imperceptibly. 

"That's incredibly brave of you, love," Newt murmured. 

Credence gave a short chuckle, a sound incredibly precious to Newt's ears. "It's just that... I guess I'm curious. And it would help. To know he's not--"

"Yeah."

 

Tina looked worried, but she agreed to arrange for them to meet Graves. As Newt had expected, he was still at home, convalescing. Apparently Madame Picquery had put her foot down and he was forbidden from coming back to work until his various ailments had healed. Tina also admitted that she visited him almost every day, which made Newt raise an eyebrow, but he let it alone. Goodness knew Tina was being beyond kind enough about him and Credence, he owed it to her to at least return the favor.

The day they had scheduled approached quickly-- rather too quickly for Newt's liking. Credence though, seemed strangely calm. Newt desperately hoped he wasn't just bottling everything in. 

Then, of course, there was the matter of transportation. They agreed to walk, and Newt found himself nervously fingering his wand. It wasn’t so much that he was afraid of Credence as he was ready to obliviate someone on the spot if necessary. Things went surprisingly smoothly, though, and Credence remained present throughout, pressing onwards into the bitter wind.

Graves’ flat was in one of those new Brooklyn high rises, and a fairly nice one at that. There was even a tree outside. Tina discreetly took out her wand and tapped the front door twice. This didn’t appear to change anything, but when they went inside and were greeted by a foyer with moving photographs and some white marble that certainly hadn’t been visible through the dingy outside window, Newt surmised that they were in a secondary space.

It was certainly a nice place, but the door to the last apartment on the fourth floor had a remarkably plain wooden door. Credence was staring at it as though it was a portal to another dimension.

Tina knocked three times, purposefully. Not five seconds later, it creaked open.

“Morning, Percival,” Tina said.

He was a tall, bulky man, with two-day-old stubble and an air of ruggedness about him, leaning heavily on a cane in his left hand. Credence flinched perceptibly at the sight of him, and Newt automatically raised a bracing hand to the small of his back.

“Morning. Why don’t you come in,” Graves said gruffly. Newt was quite vividly reminded of the sort of man who looked at him skeptically when he presented his book proposal to the Ministry in London. He shook the man's hand as Tina made introductions.

They sat gingerly on a red couch, and Graves brought out coffee and tea, along with some packaged biscuits. Tina seemed anxious, and Credence—well, Credence wasn’t moving at all.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, Graves sipping at his coffee.

“How are you holding up, Credence?” He asked eventually.

“I—I’m doing alright, sir.” Credence stammered.

“That’s good,” Graves said to his coffee. He sighed and shifted forward, creating the unmistakable silhouette of a man clutching at the last piece of warmth in his world. “I… for what it’s worth, Credence, I’m sorry. For what he did with my face.”

This seemed to surprise Credence. “It’s okay, wasn’t your fault.” He said after a long pause. 

Something tense in Graves’ face some to melt away.

“You’re living with Mr. Scamander?” Credence nodded. “And what exactly is your profession, sir?”

“I’m a maizoologist,” Newt answered flatly. “I’m writing a book.” 

“I don’t suppose you deal with a whole lot of those creatures on a… first-hand basis, do you? I have some colleagues who I'm sure would be... fascinated.” He asked, squinting.

“You could say that, yes."

“Perce,” Tina interjected, giving him a meaningful look. “Be nice.”

Surprisingly, Graves backed down with a wave of his hand. “Well, at any rate, I’m glad you’ve found another home,” he said to Credence.

“And what about you, sir—“

Graves winced visibly. “Please, just call me Percival.”

“—P-Percival, how have you been?” Credence asked, his voice wobbling. Newt found his hand and grasped it gently. Graves’ eyes darted down to them, and then back up, as though nothing had happened.

“I’m alright. As I’m sure you noticed, he did a number on my leg. Healers aren’t sure if it’ll ever be completely the same. Aside from that, though, I’m as good as ever.”

They made small talk for some time, and Newt mostly kept his eyes on Credence. He seemed slightly more relaxed than he had been initially, and although Tina was really carrying the brunt of the conversation, he wasn’t disengaged. Graves, he admitted grudgingly to himself, seemed perfectly nice, if rough around the edges. Graves and Tina seemed to click together quite wonderfully... not that it was any of his business.

Eventually, it was getting later and they got up to leave. Graves limped to the door to let Tina and Credence out, but as Newt passed by, Graves grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

He was staring at Newt with a singeing intensity. “You had better take care of that boy, Scamander.” He growled.

Surprising even himself, Newt didn’t shrink back, but met Graves' ferocity head-on. “I will.” He said with conviction.

“He deserves the world,” said Graves, his voce suddenly quavering.

“I know. I know.” Newt murmured. And he did. There was a certain sense of understanding, of mutual responsibility. It was in that moment that he finally understood that Graves had cared deeply for Credence, until Grindelwald had ruined it all. Now all he could do was watch from a distance...

“I’ll see you sometime, Mr. Graves.” 

“Take care.” Graves said, releasing his shoulder.

Newt stumbled out the door, which clicked closed in his wake. 

Tina and Credence were staring at him nervously. “What was that about?” Tina asked.

“Oh— nothing,” Newt replied hastily. 

Tina seemed to accept this, but Credence stared at him for a bit, and Newt knew they’d be having a talk when they got back to the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too newt-centric for yall, i was kind of curious about the newt/original graves relationship outside of a romantic context so here it is. back to my son credence in the next chapter, worry not.  
> Also, I'm thinking of doing some drabbles on Queenie bein gay and/or the Tina/Graves thing? feedback much appreciated


	5. Plaits

"Credence," Newt said one morning as they were lying in bed together, his fingers running through long, dark locks, "have you thought about cutting your hair?"

Credence blinked, his eyebrows knitting. "Not really... I kind of like it, actually, like this. Ma... she always used to say that I had to keep it short because it was a source of vanity. I used to be so jealous of the girls."

Newt just kept stroking his hair. "Alright," he said, easily. Credence couldn't help but feel the tension inside him unravel. He could keep it like this. "I rather like it, too," Newt added cheekily. 

Credence just curled further into Newt's warm embrace and hummed contentedly into his nightshirt. 

After two months or so, however, the long hair was starting to get inconvenient. It fell in front of his eyes, and seemed to catch on everything, especially when he was trying to work with the creatures. He dreaded cutting it, really, but it was starting to seem like it would be necessary. 

Queenie intercepted these worries at lunch one day, and just shook her head. "Credence, darling," she told him, "there is an incredibly simple solution."

She led him into her room and sat him at her dresser, and he watched as she patiently combed his unruly hair and twisted it back, a briefly unpleasant sensation, into a knot at the back of his neck. She fastened it there with a leather tie.

“Is that better, dearie?” She asked. “I’ll show you how to do that for yourself if you’d like.”

Credence ran his fingers slowly across her handiwork, and nodded. “Yes, please. And thank you,” he said.

“My pleasure, sweetheart,” she said, patting his shoulder.

With her patient help, he managed to recreate the bun with a reasonable degree of success. He studied himself in the mirror, in a way he hadn’t since he’d had makeup put on him at the party. It was nice to have the hair out of his eyes, but he also thought that it made him look rather handsome, the way it framed his face.

He kept it up and went down to join Newt in the case. The man was almost totally eclipsed by the graphorns he was tending to—their calf had caught a cold.

Credence grabbed the pile of towels that were idling by the entrance to the habitat and went over to help.

“Ah, excellent, if you could just—“ but then Newt looked up, and his face split into a massive, toothy grin. “Did you let Queenie fix your hair?” he asked.

Credence smiled shyly and nodded. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“You look stunning,” Newt said, and leaned over to plant a solid kiss on Credence’s lips. The latter absolutely melted, as he usually did when Newt complimented him.

They managed to fix up the graphorn calf together, and then retreated to the shed, where Newt had something or other to mix up. Credence perched on the bench and watched, occasionally passing Newt a bunch of leaves or dusty phial. 

The knot was starting to fall out, and in the end it was pulling so much that Credence frustratedly tugged out the leather tie. He attempted to redo the knot, but without Queenie’s guiding hands, it proved ridiculously difficult. He must have made a frustrated sound, because Newt noticed and clucked his tongue. There was a smile playing on his lips, though, as he took in the cloud of black hair floating aimlessly around Credence’s head.

“I think it might stay in better if it were in a plait,” he mused. “Would you mind if I try?” 

Credence considered this for a split second, and then nodded eagerly. Newt came behind him and straddled the bench, his chest brushing against Credence’s back, and he felt an electric warmth spread through his middle. 

Careful fingers curled through his hair, separating out sections and weaving them together. 

“Where did you learn to do this?” Credence asked after a little while. 

Newt hesitated. “When I was at school, at Hogwarts, there was a girl named Leta that I got very close to…” he trailed off. Credence didn’t exactly need to hear the rest of it, but Newt went on anyway. “She almost never had her hair down, and we spent almost all of our time together, so I learned.” He wrapped the leather tie around the end of the hair, and tucked a stray lock behind Credence’s ear. “There, all done.”

“What happened between you and her?” Credence asked, turning around to face him. It was a sin to be envious, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

Newt stared at his fingers. “I—well, she was very controlling, you see. In my seventh year, I hardly every saw my other friends, because she convinced me that if I did, I was betraying her trust.” He was still gazing at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. Credence could hear the pain in his voice.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tentatively taking Newt’s hands in his own. 

“It’s alright… it was a long time ago,” Newt replied with a slight shake of his head.

“That doesn’t mean it’s gone away,” Credence agreed quietly, aware that he was parroting the advice that Queenie and Tina and even Newt himself had been giving him.

Newt gave a small, tight smile. “You’re right, love. Thank you.”

They sat in each other’s arms for a while, until an awful stench started to waft from the workbench.

“Bollocks!” Newt swore. “That’ll be the scurvy grass.”

He leapt nimbly up from the bench, tapping his wand furiously on a small cast-iron cauldron. The smell drifted away. 

“Sorry about that, a Wiggenweld potion goes bad awfully fast if you lose track of time. Think I saved it, though.”

Credence just chuckled, a lazy, carefree feeling seeping through him. Newt smiled in return. 

“Now, where were we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Had a bit of writer's block yesterday, so this is mostly a meandering fluffball of a chapter that sorta turned plotty... hope it was fun anyway.   
> I had like 8 pictures of Ezra Miller with long hair to attach but apparently i'm old and I don't know how, someone pls comment and help this old lady


	6. Two secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW detailed at the end; this one's a little heavier than the last few.

It had been a long day, and Newt had been at MACUSA for nearly twelve hours now. Credence didn’t want to worry, but Newt had said he’d be back by three…

Credence tried to read one of Newt's books, the one about potions, but the words seemed to swim before his eyes. He paced for a long while, and ended up perched on the couch with his hands white-knuckled and clasped at his knees. He knew that he ought to do something with himself, and avoid this whole spiral

_Sloth is a disgusting vice, Credence_

But he just couldn’t get up, it was like there was some force that kept him where he was. He wished desperately that Newt were there, or at least the suitcase, but he knew Newt was doing very important business and that he wouldn’t dare to interrupt even if he could.

And right then, just behind him, the Niffler spotted the gold leaf on the cover of a book. In its scramble to obtain it, it knocked over a small china figurine, which fell to the ground with a colossal smash.

_“Our last good plate, shattered,” she said tonelessly. “What am I supposed to do with these shards?”_

_He was shaking, his vision clouded with sleeplessness and terror._

_“I’m sorry, Ma, I’ll clean it up—“ He stumbled towards the broom cabinet, but an cold hand clasped his wrist in an iron grip._

_“With your hands, Credence. God expects penance from the wasteful.”_

_He bowed his head even further, and got on his knees, gathering the razor-sharp shards with trembling fingers, as she stood over him and watched. Each little piece dug a new scar into his hands, but they were too cold for him to feel much of anything. When he was done, the last of the dust gathered up, he drew slowly to his feet. He knew what was coming._

_“Belt,” she said simply. He couldn’t look at her face. His hands numbly undid the buckle, and he followed her up the stairs, each step bringing him closer to his own hell._

_The monster inside of him—it really was Satan, he knew—reared up in waves with each stroke of the belt on his back. He fought it back, or the pain fought it back, or something did, but he couldn’t allow it to rule him, he could be Godly and true no matter what Ma always said, he just knew he had it in him, somehow—_

_“You’re a hopeless case,” she stated, after she’d stopped. “I do all that I can, but it’s all for nothing if you don’t try.”_

He was sobbing. The leather of his belt dug into his palms where he clutched it, unsure whether he wanted to give it to her or not.

“Credence!” came a shout—a man?

His vision began to settle, the darkness receding to the edges of his vision. Bright hair, freckles, blue coat. Warm. He smelled like woods and lemongrass and fresh air—home.

“Credence, I’m going to come over now, alright?”

Credence stayed frozen. He didn’t know who this man was, and God knew he had no right to ask—

“Can you tell me where we are, Credence?” The man’s quiet voice continued.

Credence shook his head jerkily, and braced himself, but nothing came.

“Do you know who I am?” the man asked after a pause, crouching down to meet Credence’s eyes. He knew the face—the station, Graves had—no, Grindelwald had—

“Newt,” he gasped. “I’m sorry I—“

“Shhhh, it’s alright now. Can I hold your hand?” Newt asked gently. 

Credence let his hand turn over, reaching out. Newt’s warm palm met his clammy one, removing the belt. 

Credence jerked backwards, tears in his eyes. He would have to be punished, he knew, it was only right. But just as he had resigned himself to the upcoming horrors, the belt fell to the ground and Newt just grasped his hands instead, gently, lovingly. Slowly, but surely, calm settled in. He crumpled into Newt’s chest, tears staining his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered hoarsely.

“You have nothing to apologize for my love,” Newt murmured into his head. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.” He shifted them so that they were sitting together on the couch, with Credence’s head buried in Newt’s coat. Long fingers traced the line of his spine rhythmically through the thin material of his shirt.

They lay like that for quite a while, until Credence’s heart had stopped pounding and the flashback seemed far away.

“Bath?” Newt suggested eventually.

“Okay,” Credence murmured. 

Gradually, he unfolded his limbs, and each one aching from the tension of the last few hours. Newt kept a guiding arm around his waist as they made their way slowly to the bathroom. Within minutes, the room grew warm with the steam rising off of the bathwater, which smelled of lavender and chamomile. He straightened up, and shut off the water with a tap of his wand.

“All ready,” he said, and turned away while Credence undressed, as he always did. 

“Newt,” Credence began once he was in the tub, trying to swallow his uncertainty, “would you… join me? Please?” There, he’d said it. The idea had been on his mind for quite some time now, and tonight in particular, he needed Newt by him.

“… are you certain?” Newt said, blinking. 

Credence nodded. “I—I mean, if you want… I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright, I’ll come,” Newt gave in, and he slowly undressed himself, folding his clothes and leaving them in pile in the corner where he'd been standing. He posture was unusually hunched, like he was ashamed of his nakedness. He stepped into the bath by Credence’s feet, and sank in with a shuddering sigh. It occurred to Credence that that might be his favorite sound in the world.

“Newt… is this alright?” Credence asked tentatively, after they’d soaked in silence for a little while.

“Yes! Of course, why—?” 

“You look tense,” 

Newt stared at his knees for some time. “Love,” he began tentatively, “do you remember the first time you had a bath, and afterwards you asked me why I seemed irritated, and I told you I’d explain another time?”

Credence blinked, and then nodded. He had almost forgotten.

“I think it’s time I explained,” he said, and then took a deep breath. Credence found his hand beneath the water and wove their fingers together. Newt gave him a grateful squeeze. “You see… oh Merlin’s beard, this is going to be awful to explain. Most people, when they love each other, they want to… be intimate. Sleep together. You know what I mean.”

Credence did. Ma had warned him about the vices of lust and harlotry. 

Newt must have felt him freeze up, because he rubbed his thumb across Credence’s knuckles. “It’s normal, and there’s nothing wrong with it, as long as people are happy. The thing is, I… I’m not normal. I don’t like it, doing any of that stuff, and I know that if you—you wanted me, or you just wanted to stay with me, even, I wouldn’t be able to—“

He broke off, his voice wobbling dangerously. Credence was shocked; did Newt really care about him so much that he was worrying about _that?_ Credence didn’t even really want to think about what it would be like to be that way with Newt, and he certainly didn’t if this was how Newt felt about the whole thing.

He turned around in the tub, and leaned his back carefully on Newt’s chest. Lean hands immediately encircled his torso, as though out of habit.

“Newt,” he whispered, “it doesn’t matter, to me. I don’t care.”

And with that, Newt was sobbing into Credence’s unruly hair, his arms pulling them even closer together.

And, strangely, in a reverse of their normal roles, it was Credence who pulled Newt out of the bath, handed him a towel, and led him to their room. Newt just sort of stared at him with uncensored awe, and pulled him close as they both laid down to go to sleep. Credence leaned in to kiss him, but hesitated.

“Is this all right?” he asked, thinking about their conversation in the bath.

Newt gave a watery smile. “Always, my love.” And their lips met like a communion.

It was not the first or last time they would fall asleep together by any stretch of the imagination, but Credence thought it seemed like a new beginning nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {TW for descriptions of physical and emotional abuse; Credence has a flashback where he's beaten, and internalized acephobia on Newt's part}  
> Hope that came together coherently, I wrote it while pmsing at two am welp. might lack emotional depth. not sure if I'm happy with it.

**Author's Note:**

> The self-indulgence continues! Hope you enjoy. Please subscribe to the series if you want more of this bullshit, I'll be posting separate fics occasionally.  
> kudos and comments bring the new stuff faster, if that incentivizes it at all lol


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